For me, writing about Wether is like fishing in a
public fountain: it’s frowned upon in general, and the authorities love issuing
me citations about it. Plus, there’s no fish, so there’s no reason for me to
even be there or doing that anyway. Yet here I am, pole and tackle box in hand
in the midst of morning rush hour, surrounded by people (c’mon, everybody,
COVID! Go home …), ready to try my luck yet again, even though I know the only
thing I can possibly reel in is the loose change people tend to throw in these
things, and not even that because my hook’s not magnetized.
Feels like a fruitless endeavor, right? It sort of
is. Mike Haley is our Wether-man, and he’s second in command at Tabs Out
(behind Dave) where I also dabble in some writing, so I’ve been banned from reviewing
his stuff over there. But guess what, Mike? You have no authority here at
Cassette Gods! Not that it matters anyway, I guess. As I’m sure you’ve prepared
yourself for it, the typical Wether map forecasts burbles and samples, with a
slight chance that one of them is going to be a reveille (I want that to be
pronounced “revile” so bad) trumpet. Heir
Bud doesn’t disappoint, as there’s enough burbles and lasers and other
noises and samples (including the warped trumpet, and even some Sound of Music!) to make you forget that
we’re living in troubled, troubled times.
Still, the typo on the cover is fairly disappointing
– the name of the movie you’re trying to reference is Air Bud, not Billy Madison (which
was nicknamed Heir Bud on set – fun fact).*
*[Not a real fact.]
In the end, I think the words we’re all looking for
are “Great set, Mike.” Great set indeed. Although I fear that, with this whole
endeavor being as fruitless and fairly illegal as it is, I’ve only managed to
reel in a couple of metaphorical nickels and a penny or two – which, let’s be
honest, I just scooped out of the water with my hand.
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